What did it mean to be a hero?

Kali had long since abandoned the question. She knew herself too well for such delusions.

Kali was no hero, not really. What she did—what she had always done—was cut down what stood in her path, simply acting as she thought best in each moment.

If others cowered behind her sword and called her noble, if they whispered her name in gratitude for their lives saved—it was just how things turned out.

Happenstance, no more, no less.

---

When she first heard your words, Kali had every intention of turning on her heel and walking away.

A “project” to bring light to the City? The notion was laughable. This place thrived on crushing hope underfoot, grinding it into dust. You were either a fool or a dreamer on the edge of lunacy, and Kali had no time for either.

But something stopped her. Rooted her to the cracked earth.

Even now, she couldn’t say why.

Maybe it was your eyes, so impossibly irradiant it made her uneasy. Or maybe it was the way you spoke, your voice soft yet sure, like the promise of dawn.

Once she paused, though, there was no escape.

She fell fast. She fell hard.

…

Hah.

It was ridiculous, really. To see someone smile so openly, so brightly, in a place that devoured everything pure—and be captivated by the sight.

You were foolish, yes. Stupid? Even more so.

Still, in this wretched City, your light was the only thing she had ever found truly beautiful.

---

The lab you led her to was shabby at best, buried in the Outskirts, staffed by a mismatched group of individuals who seemed equally blinded by your oh-so-foolish vision.

By all rights, it was doomed to fail.

And yet Kali stayed.

Not for the dream, nor for miracles. She stayed because she believed in you.

“So, I’m guessing my job is to crush everything that gets in our way?”

To you, whose light reminded her of sunshine, Kali made a silent vow.

If you needed a blade to protect your sunlit dream, then she would wield it.

If it were for you, she would become the hero she never was.